All I know

April 12, 2012

It wasn’t the cockroaches and bugs coming out of everything I owned that bothered me as much as it was being caught in her bedroom with no explanation. I wasn’t even looking for her panties. No idea why I was there either.

 

Just an hour or so before (in central standard dream time), I was un-packed in my newest abode. I was happy with my house and my room. The decorations were up and the party had just begun. My ex-roommate came by to return a few things that turned into many things as my other friends returned from a holiday in Layover County and my house filled with new things and it was cluttering and cluttered and my mother arrived to visit the same time I was served my eviction notice.

 

I knew I would survive. I always survive. I survive. It get’s harder as I get older and want to stay in the same nest but this was my dream so I wasn’t older or younger I just was. I was reactionary.

That’s the girl I like came by from Texas and we somehow missed each other.

 

I gathered everything I owned and hid out wherever I could and I was alone. That’s when I appeared at her house with my bags full of stuff. It didn’t occur to me to knock like a human being so I came in through the bathroom window protected by a hope and a prayer. I was trying to straighten out my stuff. Stuff. My crap and the bugs started appearing everywhere. I thought it was controllable so I started killing them and then I looked up and saw the ceiling covered in them. At this point I was concerned with getting them off of me and ought of my hair. The door opened and it was her. Chelsea. She used to be the love of my loins that got away. I used to obsess so much over her but not at that moment.

 

Chelsea was in shock seeing me there she didn’t notice the bugs. I said “We need to talk but outside” as I shut the door and noticed her younger and now hotter sister and closed the door and the bugs were everywhere.

 

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” her sister asked.

 

I wish I knew.

 

I woke up and took a thorough imaginary shower and tried to remember more of this hallucinatory horror show of my mind.

 

This is all I know.


Leading You Nowhere . . .

September 4, 2010

I’ve been slacking lately on the writing. When I do write I want to have something to say or talk about and there are no events that have been happening that stand out to talk about. There’s a lot going on in my head but I haven’t felt like writing about it. That’s why I’m writing right now. Sometimes I have to write just for the sake of writing. Clear my head a little bit, ya know? Who knows maybe this will lead somewhere. Maybe what I am writing now will lead to something to write about or maybe it already has. Do you write?

Do you ever get writer’s block as they call it? I think I’ve been getting that lately. Either that or laziness of the mind. The one thing that has always unblocked me as a writer is to just start writing. Hey. That’s what I’m doing now, isn’t it? Are you still reading? Good. Then we have something going between us. I write and you read. A fair deal.

A family friend is an artist. He told me a long time ago that the art isn’t complete until someone sees it and shares the experience. Otherwise its not art to him. I didn’t question him. I believed that. Like what’s going on right now between you and I. This writing isn’t complete unless you read it, right?

Last week my cousin who is also a talented artist was visiting and I decided to share this great wisdom with him. I told him that the art isn’t complete without someone seeing it. Do know what he had the audacity to do. You won’t believe this. He asked why. What nerve? He expected an explanation for my undeniable wisdom that was passed down to me from a more experienced artist then both of us. I couldn’t believe he was questioning me. Do you want to know what really bothered me about his question? I’m assuming you said yes. If not I’m going to tell you anyway. What bothered me the most about his question was that I did not have an answer. My jaw dropped and I tried my hardest to explain to him but my final answer was “I don’t know”. We had a similar discussion about God later but I won’t get into that one.

Here, what I so blindly accepted years ago as the holy word, the truth, solid information, my cousin questioned. He questioned it because he had not heard that before and he is more of a free thinker than I am. He has questions and wants answers as opposed to me accepting things at face value. I guess my faith extends beyond God. I have faith in people and what I hear as truth and simply accept it. This is good and bad for me.

I don’t always fight for things. I accept a no as meaning no. I also hate people that won’t take no for an answer. It annoys me. It could be jealousy or envy but I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong, I fight for something that I feel I deserve or something I believe in but I save my battles for something important. Usually I accept it. You tell me it’s snowing outside in New Jersey in July I might believe you. I’ll have my doubts. I think I’m off track again.

Coincidentally, the night my cousin was over my family’s artist friend came by as well. So I took the opportunity to bring up the question my cousin asked. Why? He explained it and went back and forth with my cousin about what art is. My cousin believes it’s art if you are just doing it for you. We all agreed that we create for ourselves first. My cousin believes the art is art in the process and getting your emotions out not the end result. Earlier, I referred to my art and writing as products. The word product had a negative connotation to him. Product is a word used commercially. To me it means something that I produced. It’s a product. The point of whether art is still art if no one sees it was never made clear that night. I still blindly accept that the art process or my case the writing process is complete when someone or many people are reading it. Are you still reading this. I’m assuming you are. This piece was written for me and I just assume that you will read it. You did. Right?

This piece of writing is complete art now. Now go tell your friends to read this and see if it becomes better writing because more people read it and the process is even more complete.

I knew when I started writing this it would eventually lead somewhere. You are that somewhere. Thank you.


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